My head alights upon your shoulder
As you enfold me in your arms.
An exhausted bird has regained his perch
Bringing his aimless flight to an end.
Sweet nightingale, your soothing tune
Echoes through my heart's mountain.
Matched only by your heart-song
In the valley of your breast.
My hands and eyes are caravans
That amble along your form.
And my cartographer mind charts your geography
A Silk Road I would tread a thousand times.